


For Your Consideration

by monsterhugger



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Canon Asexual Character, Cuddling, Feelings, Fluff, M/M, Mentions of Sex, Set in Episodes 159-160 | Scottish Safehouse Period (The Magnus Archives), Sex-Repulsed Jon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:53:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24975661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monsterhugger/pseuds/monsterhugger
Summary: Martin has some thoughts about Jon and tries to express them in a way that doesn't involve poetry and hoping Jon won't Behold them. Jon has some thoughts about those thoughts. (They cuddle at the end).
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 3
Kudos: 150
Collections: Repulsed/Averse Ace Jon Archivist





	For Your Consideration

**Author's Note:**

> (11/2/2020): Wrote this a while ago but thought I’d post to the collection!! Hope y’all enjoy :)
> 
> M rating is for extremely not horny discussion of sex.  
> I myself am not asexual so I'm sorry if this comes off as unrealistic.

Something about the safehouse is getting to Martin.

It’s not like he didn’t think about Jon before. It’s not like he didn’t think about Jon like this before. But before, he’d had things to distract him. He’d had his job-a job in which Jon was his boss, and thoughts like this were highly inappropriate. He’d had his home, where he definitely didn’t stop thinking about Jon but where he wasn’t seeing Jon constantly. He’d had other people. Now Jon was literally the only thing in the world. Jon, or the horrific apocalypse outside, and as guilty as Martin felt thinking about Jon he preferred thoughts of him to thoughts of the ruined world.

Apocalypse notwithstanding, Martin was already practically living out his fantasy. Every morning he woke up next to Jon, the man he loved, his eyes glowing softly in the dim light of dawn. They’d eat breakfast together, staring into each other’s eyes across the table. They’d spend the day cuddled up on the couch together, reading and re-reading the few books they’d found in the safehouse, taking turns reading aloud merely to enjoy the sound of each other’s voices. Martin would write poetry, rambling on and on about beautiful green eyes and the warmth of a body against his own and love, _his_ love, being the only thing that remained in the world and would remain eternally. He’d read them to Jon, because what else was there to do, and Jon would smile and tilt his head to the side and tell Martin he loved them even though Martin was quite sure they weren’t very good.

There were poems Martin didn’t read for Jon, of course. He couldn’t stop Jon from Knowing about them, and he suspected Jon was at least aware they existed, but sharing his fantasies seemed a bit forward even now. His particular style of poetry was cringe-inducing enough, and he hated to imagine how uncomfortable it would be if he was reading to Jon about naked skin on skin and hands travelling down his body.

Martin wasn’t ashamed of his sexuality. He knew perfectly well these feelings were natural, but he’d always been squeamish about actually initiating conversation about them. With Jon, the idea of that conversation was especially daunting-if he made things awkward between himself and the only other living person in the world, there wasn’t really anywhere to go from there. Of course, Martin suspected Jon had Seen at least a few of his dirtier thoughts, and if they disturbed him he wasn’t making an issue out of it. There was always the possibility that Jon simply wasn’t bringing up his discomfort to avoid making Martin uncomfortable over his Knowing, but if he was fine then it would be a bad idea to bring it up. Everything seemed fine on the surface, but the anxiety over Jon’s potential inner turmoil was constantly biting at the back of his mind, along with the thoughts responsible for the issue in the first place. It was going to have to come up eventually. He was going to have to do something about this.

Jon was curled up next to him on the couch, his head nestled against Martin’s arm. Martin was stroking his hair absentmindedly, trying to ignore the nagging worry at the back of his head. When that didn’t work, he tried thinking of something to say, but nothing he could think of felt right. He had to say something. He couldn’t go on like this, the weight of Jon’s head resting on him feeling more heavy than comforting as his thoughts raced. He removed his hand from Jon’s hair and placed it in his lap, squeezing his hands together in a feeble attempt to stop them from shaking.

“Jon?” he said softly.

Jon lifted his head and turned to look at him.

“What is it, darling?”

Martin’s stomach lurched. He couldn’t do this. Jon loved him, everything was going so well, he couldn’t just mess it up now.

“How many of my thoughts have you been Seeing lately?”

“More than I’d like,” Jon sighed. “I really am sorry, Martin, I just can’t help it.”

“No, it’s okay! I was just wondering if you Saw… you know. Certain things.”

“What sorts of things?”

“I…” Martin squeezed his eyes shut. He could still feel Jon staring at him. Usually Jon’s gaze was comforting, but having all those eyes on him while he tried desperately to think of how to explain himself was not helping.

“Inappropriate things,” he decided, regretting his choice of words the moment they left his mouth. “As in, not the kind of things I should be thinking about my boss.”

“I’m not your boss anymore, Martin,” Jon said, shaking his head. “But yes, I’m… familiar with that.”

“Is it a problem?” Martin asked. “I mean, am I making you uncomfortable?”

“It’s not a problem,” Jon said softly. “You’re allowed to have thoughts. I can’t expect you not to, can I?”

“I suppose not.” Martin tapped his fingers against the couch, still avoiding Jon’s gaze. Jon had given him permission to have these thoughts, but it wasn’t exactly reassuring.

“So if you’re not my boss anymore,” Martin muttered, “what are you, exactly?”

“I’d like to call myself your partner,” Jon said. “I think you’d like the same, wouldn’t you?”

“Y-yes,” Martin replied. “I’d like that.” Really, he’d already considered himself Jon’s partner. It was unspoken, sure, but Jon had obviously known that was how he felt and they certainly behaved like a couple.

Jon smiled, resting a hand on Martin’s thigh. Martin considered holding it, but that didn’t feel right.

“It’s normal to, I don’t know, write erotic poetry about your partner, right?” Martin asked.

“Define _normal._ ”

Martin might have chuckled at that if he wasn’t so nervous.

“I mean, obviously when you were my boss it would’ve been weird. But now… I just can’t stop thinking about certain things, and I don’t want to make things weird by talking to you about them, and writing helps. But since you Know about it I can’t help but think I shouldn’t, you know? I just don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“For the record, I didn’t know you were writing erotic poetry about me.”

Martin placed his head in his hands.

“I promise I won’t look,” Jon said. “I mean, I’ll try my best.”

Martin shook his head. He definitely couldn’t look at Jon now, he could feel his cheeks flushing red-hot.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I’ve just been thinking about this stuff-about _you_ -for so long. Too long. Except now it doesn’t just feel like silly fantasies anymore, you’re right here and we’re _partners_ and it’s just a lot to handle and I don’t know what to do. I just don’t want to make things awkward between us, and if all this is making you uncomfortable please, please tell me because I don’t want you to be uncomfortable. I love you, alright?”

“Martin…” Jon gently patted Martin’s thigh. “You’re okay.”

“Do you want to?” Martin blurted out.

Jon’s hand stopped suddenly.

“What?”

Martin couldn’t exactly read the tone of Jon’s voice, but he suspected he’d said something wrong.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No, you’re fine,” Jon replied. “I’m just… not sure I understand the question.”

Of all the times Jon could’ve used his mind-reading powers, this seemed like a pretty good one. But he seemed to be controlling himself. Martin tried to be grateful.

“Do you want to have sex with me?” Martin asked meekly.

Jon removed his hand from Martin’s thigh and placed it in his own lap. Martin finally glanced at him. He was hunched in a similar position to Martin, the eyes in his face staring down at the floor. Martin was certain he’d messed up.

“No,” Jon said, softly but firmly. “I do not.”

“Fuck,” Martin whispered. “That was too forward. I knew it was, I knew I shouldn’t have said it.”

“It’s not that,” Jon said. “It’s not you. I just… don’t.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t have sex. It’s just not for me.”

“Oh.” Martin lifted his head, feeling slightly better knowing he hadn’t exactly ruined everything. Jon was still sitting like that, hunched over with his hands in his lap. Martin cautiously placed a hand on Jon’s shoulder. Jon moved a bit closer to him, but still wouldn’t meet his gaze.

“What is it you don’t like, exactly?” Martin asked.”I mean, if it’s the… if you don’t want me touching your… I don’t have to do that.”

“It’s not that,” Jon said, shaking his head. “Just the whole business of it. I can’t do it.”

“Why not?”

“I just _can’t_ , alright? It’s not something I like to talk about.”

“Okay. I’m sorry.” Martin wrapped his arm around Jon. Jon leaned against his shoulder again.

“Don’t be sorry,” he whispered.

“No, I really am sorry. This obviously isn’t something you’re comfortable with, and I’m sorry I brought it up.”

“It’s not your fault. You didn’t know that. Now you do. I’m glad we had this talk, really.”

“But you’re okay with me thinking about you like that? It doesn’t make you uncomfortable?”

“It’s… I’m not going to lie, it’s a bit uncomfortable. But like I said, you can’t help thinking, can you?”

“I can probably stop with the erotic poetry.”

“Honestly, I’m a bit flattered by that. Just don’t let me see it.”

Martin smiled. He leaned down and gently kissed Jon’s head.

“So can you tell me how long you’ve been in love with me again?” Jon asked smugly.

“Jesus,” Martin muttered, his face flushing red. “It must’ve been since before you became Archivist. Then I spent a few years getting over the whole ‘oh god, that’s my boss’ thing, then the ‘oh god, that’s a man covered in eyeballs that feeds on trauma’ thing, and… to be honest, I probably got over those things a lot faster than I should have.”

Jon slid closer to Martin so their thighs were flush with each other, and he was lovingly tucked under Martin’s arm.

“I wish I would’ve known sooner,” he whispered.

“You did Know, didn’t you? Maybe not from the beginning, but definitely when you started Knowing things.”

“Oh, no, I always knew you had a thing for me. I didn’t need to read your mind to know that. I just wish I’d known how much I loved you back.”

Martin didn’t know what to say. He kissed Jon again, and again, and again, the affection blossoming in his chest as he felt the calming warmth of Jon’s body against his own. Just talking to Jon had worked wonders, he no longer felt that nagging sensation at the back of his head over Jon.

“It’s nice when you tell me how you feel, you know?” Martin said softly. “I mean, considering I can’t just Know it. I’m sure you don’t have that problem with me, but…”

“Of course,” Jon replied. “I’ll try and remember that.”

They slept beside one another that night, as they always did, with Martin in his underwear and Jon in a t-shirt and sweatpants. Jon ran his hand over Martin’s back. It was fiercely warm and had a slightly rough texture from the burn scar that covered the palm. Jon’s touch was incredibly comforting. Martin felt content to stay like this forever, curled up next to the man he loved, ignoring the disaster outside and staying in the safehouse where everything was okay.


End file.
